


Keep A Secret

by 10milesfromhome



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M, Lies, Lyrium Addiction, M/M, Secrets
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-04
Updated: 2018-09-04
Packaged: 2019-07-06 23:48:07
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,520
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15896616
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/10milesfromhome/pseuds/10milesfromhome
Summary: Cullen told Cassandra that he no longer takes Lyrium, the substance that grants Templars their abilities. After months of being clean, in the wake of the events at Adamant Fortress, he succumbs to his withdrawal and anxieties and indulges... just once. But once starts becoming once more. Then multiple times a week. He becomes severely addicted. Dorian is first to notice the signs and Cullen swears him to secrecy, especially from Cassandra. Reluctantly, Dorian agrees.Meanwhile, Inquisitor Marcus Trevelyan is having to deal with Cassandra's unusually prickly manner when it came to anything concerning Cullen. She is concerned. That's all. Concerned... Trevelyan has trouble believing that. He promises that he will try to find time to talk to Cullen. The one day he does, he spots Dorian exiting Cullen's tower and sees them exchange an overly familiar gesture. What is Dorian doing with the former Templar?The tension between Trevelyan and his Tevinter mage is building and their relationship becomes tense and frayed. Markus is paranoid that Dorian and the Commander are having an affair and when he confronts Dorian about it, the truth comes spilling out.Then Cassandra enters the room.





	1. Amatus

The fade had been a harrowing experience for all involved. 

Cassandra had been the first through, all but collapsing on Cullen as she climbed through the rift. The battle against the Nightmare had been exhausting and she was bleeding heavily from a gash on here forehead. Another scar to add to her body. Cullen held her close to his chest as Inquisition soldiers helped Dorian and Varric through the rift and to their feet. Now all of them turned in expectation of the Inquisitor and... nothing. They waited. One universally held breath. Worrying for the safety of the Herald. Their hero. Before long, the panic got to Dorian.

"Vishante kaffas, I'm going back in" he announced, trying to re-enter the rift he'd just fought to claw himself out of. Cullen gently lowered Cassandra to the ground so she could rest and sternly rounded on Dorian. Planting a strong hand on the mages bicep, he pulled him roughly to one side. Dorian was less than impressed.  
"What in all hell do you think you're doing?" he demanded.  
"Look Dorian, you maybe an Altus and possibly as stubborn as Cassandra but you cannot and will not go back into the Fade."  
"If he di-"  
"The Inquisitor know what he's doing and he's not alone. Stroud and Hawke are still with him."  
"You think that makes me feel at ease?" Dorian snapped, electricity crackling in his hands.  
"Don't even think about it, Sparkler." Varric's voice, echoed from just behind them as he prodded Bianca into the small of Dorian's spine "Look, we've all just been through hell. Almost literally. We're tired and on edge and not acting rationally. I know you got feelings for the Inquisitor but Curly there is not your enemy. Now unless you want me to fire a few bolts up your 'Vint ass, you should probably rest and wait with the rest of us."

Dorian hesitated, energy still crackling around him. Cullen's hand was on the hilt of his sword and he could feel Bianca pressing flush against his spine. Never mind the eyes of every surviving soldier and Warden. It felt like an age before a familiar crackling sounded from the rift. From the eerie green light, Hawke appeared, followed by the Inquisitor, his usually perfect ebony locks were matted and sticking to his skin with sweat. He looked around and lifted his left hand in a fist and the rift snapped shut. A small cheer went up as the forces of the Inquisition knew that signalled the end of the battle. Dorian looked up at the Inquisitor, _his_ Inquisitor. His lover. For a second the wave of relief kept him from noticing the fact that it was only the Inquisitor and Hawke who had come through before the rift had been closed. As if reading his mind, a Warden mage called out.

"Where is Warden Stroud?" Asking the Inquisitor. The look on his face when faced with the question was a curious mix of disgust, sadness and fury. When he finally looked up, Dorian didn't recognise his lover. The heartfelt, gentle Inquisitor who saved the mages and went out of his way to return Dorian's family amulet. This was _The_ Inquisitor. The Herald of Andraste. The queller of the mage rebellion. The man who's named evoked both inspiration and paralyzing fear.

"He's dead. Because of all of you. He died for sake of all of you by living up to what a Warden should be. Stroud was the only one to stand against Clarel's plan and what you do? Branded him an outcast. Demanded his death. You should all be ashamed."

Dorian recoiled. The venom in his lover's voice may not have been meant for him but it was frightening nonetheless. It sounded too much alike one of his father's scoldings. He decided to leave the inner courtyard and wait for the commotion to calm down. As he left, he heard the same Warden pose another question. Dorian quietly wondered if the soldier actually enjoyed the severe tongue-lashing that the Inquisitor was dishing out.

Before long, the inner circle began to leave, followed by the whole host of the Inquisition's forces. Cassandra was still huddled against Cullen as they left. Dorian thought he could almost see a tear roll down her blood-streaked cheek. Varric talked briefly with Hawke before he departed for Weisshaupt. One of Leliana's people sent a messenger raven. Eventually, the Inquisitor joined them, his dark mood clouding around him still. Dorian followed close by, not quite confident enough to go strolling up to even his lover whilst he was in such a tempestuous mood like this. Once they had mounted and were making course for Skyhold, Dorian chanced a conversation.

"So... what was all that about?" he inquired, trying to be as nonchalant as possible. The Inquisitor's didn't shift.  
"That was an absolute shitshow" he said to no one in particular. Dorian risked moving closer to put a hand on his leg.  
"Markus..." his tone was pleading. So often, he would have to annoy his lover into letting him into his thoughts. It was not something Dorian was used to doing either. He was more adept at being cunning and wily, using his wit and words to elicit information out of people. With Markus, maker save him, it was like he was a child simpering. It did, however, have the delightful effect of working wonders. He felt Markus tense briefly before it all melted away and he was left tired and slumped in his saddle but much less dark and brooding. He looked at Dorian with those deep, forest green eyes and gave him half a smile.  
"I'm fine. Honestly, I'm just a bit stressed and strung out by everything that happened in the fade and then... asking Stroud to stay so... so Hawke and I could make it back. That, that felt awful" his head sank. His whole body looked deflated. Defeated. The fade had been quite the ordeal. None of them would be quite the same again. Except maybe Dorian. He'd made peace with his actions and his failures long ago, nothing the Nightmare had thrown at him really had any effect. The others though... they were clearly shaken. Dorian gave Markus' thigh a comforting squeeze. He knew that they were going to get through this. Get back to being fine.

Dorian could be stubborn like that. He'd make damn well sure his Inquisitor, his amatus would be fine in the end.

Suddenly, he couldn't wait to get back to Skyhold so they could both just climb into a proper bed.


	2. The Road Less Travelled

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> From Cullen's perspective as they are on the road back to Skyhold.

_Whispers in the darkness. Smoke. Something red and sickly and sinister floating around him, making it hard to see. A chittering laughter echoed between wisps and still there was no figure, no shadow at which he could point his sword. He made wild slashed this way and that, hitting nothing but ephemera. The voices, the laughter grew louder, closer as he struggled. As he panicked, the voice of his sister called out in pain and he screamed as a Terror Demon appeared beneath him, driving a talon up to his chest and straight through his heart._

"NO!" Cullen shouted as he shot up out of his bedroll, a dagger in his hand. For a few moments, in his blind panic, he hadn't even noticed Cassandra on the bedroll next to him, in only her smalls but coiled in a defensive stance and ready to strike. Once he regained some clarity, Cullen through the dagger to the side as if it had bitten him. He turned in horror to look at Cassandra, who had eased the tension in her body. Cullen looked at her properly. Noticing the scars that littered her athletic body. One running the length of her ribcage from the talon of a Terror demon. Another across her abdomen - the mark of a Red Templar arrow that ruled her out of action for over a month. The cut on her shoulder from a training bout with the Inquisitor that got far, far too heated as his Knight-Enchanter's blade cut clean through her armor and into her skin. The well known scar down her left cheek, from her training as a Seeker. The newest one, the gash across her forehead. He looked at her as one who was perfect. His own embodiment of Andraste herself. The rest of Thedas could keep the Herald, Cullen could be satisfied by just having Cassandra and no one else. They had not been together long but nothing had ever felt more right. She understood him. Understood what he was doing. And he understood (though not necessarily agreed with) her insistence on the Inquisitor knowing.

The Lyrium withdrawals were getting worse recently. The added stress of Corypheus' appearance, discovering the Grey Wardens' corruption and then the showdown at Adamant were weighing on him and wearing him down. Cassandra had noticed. She had forced him to stay with the army rather than accompany the Inquisitor as he chased down the Venatori mage and Warden Commander Clarel. She was the one who sidelined him as she took the plunge into the void. That's when the siren call of old habits had begun. Now they were into the fifth night on their way back to Skyhold from the Western Approach. They had arrived at the Orlesian border with Fereldan. The withdrawals were getting worse. The nightmares were getting worse. Worse than that, he could sense that Cassandra knew. He sat there, sweating despite the chill in the night air. She cautiously returned to his side, resting her head on his shoulder, tracing her fingers up and down his muscled arm. His breathing calmed and she could feel him relax.

"The lyrium withdrawal. It's gotten worse again." She was matter-of-fact. There was no questioning. She just knew.

Cullen nodded.

She gave his arm a gentle squeeze.

"No Templar has ever had the courage to do what you are doing, Cullen. You are an example to all who want to escape the clutches of Lyrium use" she said as she reached up and kissed his cheek. Cullen relished the touch of her lips.  
"I know all what you are saying, Cassandra. I know it. But these nightmares are driving me to the edge of all reason. I'm less now than I was a Templar. How can I possibly give the Inquisition any less than I gave to the Order?" He hung his head, burying his face in his hands. Cassandra pulled him close. She felt him begin to cry. They sat up for a good few hours, the raw emotions seeping out and exhausting them both until they collapsed into a sleep once more

***

The next morning, Cullen was up incredibly early. He left Cassandra to sleep a while longer as he went to wash himself and begin his morning drill. The Inquisitor often teased him about his routine and how he never seemed to sleep, though there was often a note of concern in his eyes as he did so. Cullen liked to stay active and busy. It was easier for him. He didn't have to think about the urge, the pull of the Lyrium while he was busy. He found the stream most of the soldiers were using to wash until they got back to Skyhold. He was incredibly surprised to see both the Inquisitor and Dorian, already washed and busying themselves with splashing each other like children as they attempted to dry themselves. The Inquisitor noticed him before Dorian did. He offered a wave and jogged over, in just a loose pair of sleeping trousers. 

"Commander? Have you slept yet? Or are you waiting for the comfort of your tower at Skyhold?" he joked. Cullen forced himself to smile and laugh.  
"Perhaps I am. Or perhaps the Seeker is just keeping me up all night" he countered, leaving the Inquisitor slightly speechless. Unfortunately, Dorian and his considerable mouth had appeared as back up."  
"Oh-ho! The Commander and the Seeker? Whoever would have guessed? Are we to expect a scintillating tale of naughty meetings in the War Room in Varric's next story? Or are we to expect a two-on-two rivalry at Wicked Grace?" his smug smirk was undeniable.  
"Maybe so. I'm certain Cassandra could kick your arse on the board just as well as during training, Dorian" Cullen shot back "as for misadventures in the War Room... well, you'll have to wait for Varric to finish writing."  
The Inquisitor rolled his eyes and snapped a small fireball between them to get their attention.  
"Okay boys. Stop flirting. If we all get moving quickly, we could make it back to Skyhold by nightfall. Come on, Dorian."   
"Coming!" He called in response before quickly turning back to Cullen for a parting shot.  
"Maybe mentioning your beloved Seeker so early in the morning isn't so wise, hmm?" He glanced down before chasing after the Inquisitor. Cullen glanced down and saw, quite clearly, that thinking about Cassandra and fooling around in the War Room had provoked some morning glory. He blushed slightly and cursed the Tevinter mage before stripping down and entering the cool water, hoping it would do more than wash the grime from his skin.

Before long, the entire force was back on the road, riding for home. The mere thought of Skyhold was tantalizing.

The day progressed slowly but they were at the the foot of the Frostbacks by lunchtime and would continue the climb up the mountain in the sun as it sets. By the time it was fully night, Skyhold was in view. The inner circle were relieved. They had several more days of planning for events at Halamshiral soon but for now, the sight of their fortress was a welcome one. Cullen however, had only one thought - getting away from everyone by locking himself in his tower. He wasn't sure why he needed to be alone but he needed the solitude right now. Cassandra would understand. It had been a long while since he had seen his own bed or his desk, Adamant had taken a lot out of everyone. They all needed to process.

The moment he got to the stables and dismounted, he left his horse with Dennet and disappeared without a word. Once in his tower, all doors locked, he went looking for it. Searching through every door, under every loose floorboard and behind every false flagstone until he found it.

His Lyrium kit.

He looked at it, his sweats going cold. His breathing raspy. 

He began the ritual of preparing it. His conscience warring with the temptation of the Lyrium, the calling of it. The song of the stone is what the Dwarves called it. When they could here the Lyrium humming beneath the rock. And now it sang to Cullen. Enticing him as if it were a spell.

He slowly brought it to his lips. One last hesitation before imbibing. Feeling the freezing burn of it as it began to course down his throat and into his body, his veins.

His whole world went black as the Lyrium took over his body.


End file.
